Nettle Blood
by XMissxHallawayX
Summary: Dark dreams have led Hermione to steal a book from her father. When the facts presented within its pages lead her to believe her parents have been lying, she takes matters into her own hands. Rated T for language and scary stuff. Genre will change later
1. Samantha's Diary

**There is always time to write a new concept for a story. Always time. Especially when my mother doesn't realize what she's doing in the morning leaves me with access to a computer!**

**This was inspired, in part, by the video "Give Your Soul To Me" made by DeadlyElegance - known on this site as DarkEscapade. She introduced me to the strange beauty of this pairing.  
**

**The story does not include many characters from Van Helsing, though. Mainly, Dracula and perhaps a reincarnated Gabriel Van Helsing. Can't resist it!  
**

**I love you all.  
**

**xHx  
**

* * *

Hermione turned the pages with unnecessary force, scowling blackly at the words inked to the parchment. The book was so old that if she hadn't placed a Resilience Charm on it, the pages would disintegrate in her hands. It was a complete version of the true story of the vampire Dracula, written in the early eighteen-hundreds by her own ancestor, Samantha Urzica. The woman had been the last witch in the line – until Hermione.

Many of the passages only left her confused. She'd snuck into her father's study at midnight to retrieve the book, which her father had pointed out the previous day. She'd been wondering about it for a long time, but he seemed reluctant to give it to her. He even told her, despite insistence that her nightmares were getting worse, that the book held answers. But he still hadn't given it to her.

Finally, on the hundredth page, she found something promising. It was a transcribed vow, made by the Count himself, copied in Samantha's own hand.

Hermione recited the lines softly, under her breath. _"When next a witch is born of Urzica blood, she will belong to me. A mark upon her collar will be a brand, tying her to me."_ The rest of the page spoke of how he had thought Samantha would be his salvation, his eternal queen, and how her marriage to Erik Leonte, the father of her Squib son Damon, had ended his chance to take her as that queen.

She turned the page, a sense of dread settling over her as she read the next line.

_Her dreams will darken as I near, for even if I die before her birth, I will be awakened by the compulsion to seek her, to take her._

She slammed the book closed and tossed it onto her nightstand before flopping against her pillows. Why couldn't life be easy for once?

* * *

*~*~*Dracula*~*~*

* * *

He was having problems getting used to this new version of the world. When he had been killed so many years ago, things had begun to change. Mortals no longer believed in magic, unless they themselves could wield it. The blood that had flowed through the veins of Samantha Urzica, the only one who had ever awakened any kind of feelings in him, was awakened. A girl borne of her descent could again wield the magic that had made the beautiful Samantha such a prize to him.

This place was a prison. A tastefully decorated one, certainly, but a prison all the same.

It would drive him mad.

"You will not escape me, Urzica child. You shall be mine." He extended his right hand toward a photograph on the wall, a moving image of the object of his fixation, the one who would free him from this prison he dwelt within. The image did not react; her smile only grew.

"Soon," he whispered, "very soon, your existence will free me."

* * *

*~*~*Hermione*~*~*

* * *

When the front door slammed, Hermione ran down the stairs. Her parents were home from the office.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she said, flinging the diary onto the table.

Jean and Anthony looked up at their adult daughter, both wide-eyed and slightly fearful.

"We're not sure it's even you the vampire Samantha knew was speaking about," Jean said, taking her daughter's hand.

Hermione flung her hand away. "How dare you?"

"Hermione -"

"No, _Dad_," she said. "You knew it was me. I came to you two years ago, telling you about the nightmares. You ignored it. Not to mention the birthmark." She jerked her collar to the side, revealing the tiny mark, just above her collarbone. It took the shape of a bat. "This has been getting more defined every day, since I came to you. Try telling me that _that_ means nothing."

The two backed away from her swiftly, both looking rather terrified. Their expressions shocked her out of her anger, bringing her back to common sense.

"What's wrong?"

Their wide eyes were fixed on a point behind Hermione.

"What are you seeing?"

She took a step forward. Her parents cringed against the wall.

"What is it?"

Taking a shivering breath, she noted a certain change in the atmosphere, the kind often associated with a ghost's presence. She turned around, very slowly.

This ghost looked nothing like the ones she knew from Hogwarts. Her distinctly black hair billowed out like she was underwater. Her front was stained with dark, almost black blood. Her golden-brown eyes focused upon Hermione's face.

_"I am so sorry to have unleashed this evil upon you,"_ the spirit said, her voice distant as her golden fingers brushed against Hermione's cheek. She had a very distinctive accent.

And then, just as quickly as she had appeared, she vanished. Hermione gasped in surprise.

"Who was that?" Jean said softly, easing toward her daughter.

"That was Samantha Urzica."

* * *

**What's next? What will Hermione have to face?**

**Please be patient, I'm only human. Reviews seem to help me write better, though...****  
**

**Love,  
**

**xHx  
**


	2. Sleepless

**We should all take a page from Hermione's book. Honestly.**

**Chapter one takes place entirely on September 17th, 1999, two days before Hermione's 20th birthday. The first portion also takes place on this date.  
**

**Dates will be in bold type.  
**

**xHx**

* * *

*~*~*Hermione*~*~***  
**

* * *

Throwing the contents of her closet into her old school trunk, Hermione knew she wouldn't be returning to this place, the home she'd grown up in. Samantha's appearance made her realize that, by remaining in the home, she placed her parents in direct danger.

The Burrow would be even worse. She'd be endangering eight other people.

Her choices were scant and by no means were any of them ideal, but she couldn't bring herself to place anyone in danger.

She'd have to go on the run again.

That didn't mean she couldn't stop at the Burrow for her twentieth birthday.

**-September 18-**

Hermione hugged Ginny, easing into the kitchen of the Burrow. It didn't precisely help matters that she'd left her beaded bag here before returning home.

Molly hugged her next and immediately began fussing over her.

"Have you been eating enough lately?"

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley."

"Have you been sleeping well?"

"As well as can be expected, Mrs. Weasley."

"Is something wrong?"

At the sound of this voice, Hermione looked up, her eyes meeting those of George Weasley, in the stairwell leading to the higher floors. He looked horrible.

"It's nothing to be worried about," Hermione said.

"I would've expected you to spend your birthday at home," George added.

"I planned to. Something came up."

"Well, whatever the reason," Mrs. Weasley said, "we're always glad to have you."

* * *

*~*~*Dracula*~*~***  
**

* * *

The mirror in his prison was beginning to mist over, as if preparing to let him free.

"It is almost time, Hermione," he said softly, taking a sip from his crystal goblet. "Soon...soon you will belong to me."

It was only a matter of hours now.

He could feel it.

* * *

*~*~*Hermione*~*~*

* * *

Time was the enemy.

Hermione didn't know when she would be in the most danger. The diary was very vague on that point.

She couldn't even sleep.

**-September 19-**

Hermione was in the kitchen, drinking a mug of coffee. It wasn't even dawn yet. She hadn't gotten a single moment of sleep.**  
**

A violent wind blew open the kitchen door. She leaped up, walking to close it, and spotted a rather tall, black figure on the horizon. She froze where she stood for just a moment before, with a gasp, she ran for the other side of the house. She flung that door wide and started running -

Only to smack into the black-clad chest of a tall, dark-haired man.

"No!" Hermione shouted, shoving away, only to fall on her own butt. "Fuck you!"

"Why even try to run?" he said. His voice, barely accented, was something like velvet.

"Because I have hope!" she screamed, scrambling to her feet and running around the side of the Burrow. She wished she'd put her shoes on before going down for coffee, especially as she dashed over the lawn. Finally, she faulted over the garden wall. The Weasleys had left the protective enchantments around their home after the war, meaning she could not Disapparate from within the property.

She ran another two feet, ensuring she'd be out of range of the wards, and closed her eyes, her central thought being to escape him until daylight.

* * *

She opened her eyes to the village of Hogsmeade, where she felt distinctly safe from the vampire who chased her. She couldn't figure out exactly why she felt safe - he was a vampire. He could fly. He would be following her as soon as he knew what she'd done.

It was freezing, despite being summer. Hugging herself tightly, she walked up to the front door of Honeyduke's Sweet Shop, knocking loudly.

Lights turned on, but it wasn't fast enough. The birthmark on her shoulder started to itch.

"Not now," she muttered, looking up at the pre-dawn sky. A large, black shape flew toward her. "No." She banged harder on the door. "Please!"

"Useless."

His voice was right at her ear.

She couldn't say anything.

"Sleep, Hermione," he whispered. "When you wake, you shall be home."

She slumped back against him, sleeping quietly.

* * *

**I'm trying to avoid the cheese factor here. Sorry it's so short.  
**

**Love,  
**

**xHx  
**


	3. The Castle

**So, so, so sorry! I promised you guys _The Castle_, like, forever ago! I know it's an excuse, but…I lost the original content. As such, I am rewriting it. Please, don't be mad at me!**

**This piece should probably have some other name. But it's _The Castle._**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

Hermione needed a book. Being without one, even if she couldn't get comfortable enough to read it, made her quite nervous. In addition, she had no clue where she really was.

_Three Hours Before_

Turning over with a cat-like stretch, Hermione burrowed her face into satin-covered pillows, trying to avoid the touch of the early morning sun.

_Satin? This isn't my room,_ she thought, bolting upright. At the foot of the bed stood a petite, strawberry blonde maid, in a dress two sizes too large, her hair in tight ringlets framing her face.

"'Ello, Miss Granger," she said. She looked quite nervous, and had a distinct accent, one that Hermione couldn't quite place.

"Hermione, please." The brunette slid out of the bed carefully, her feet landing in thick, plush carpet. "Where am I?"

"You're in the Count's castle, miss. He brought you here last night. Told me to dress you," the small young lady answered. She moved up to Hermione's side and sighed, gazing out the window. "My name's Rosaline."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Rosaline."

She had remembered the incident. The running, the Apparition, the capture and abduction…it was quite distinct in her mind.

"Where is the castle?"

"It's 'ard to say, miss. I've never known. He doesn't tell us because he's afraid we'll leave and find someone to kill him. I've always thought that…we're in the middle of far-northern Alaska. It's so dark, so much of the time. Sunsets are so rare."

"Sun_sets_?" Hermione said, incredulity in her expression.

"Yes, miss. It's seven forty-eight in the evening. The sun is setting…for the last time, for several months. We won't see daylight for some time," Rosaline said. "Makes it easier for the Count to find food sources."

"Food sources as in, go hunting?"

"Yes, miss."

_I've landed myself in a kind of hell,_ Hermione thought. "Do you know if he'll be stopping by in the night?"

"He is expected to, miss. He doesn't tell us his 'ole schedule, but when he 'as a guest, he usually visits him or her nightly. Follow me, miss."

Hermione did, into a large, elegant washroom, complete with a large Jacuzzi tub, a large counter, and a glistening mirror. Rosaline showed her where the freshest towels were placed, where to put the used towels for maid pickup, and all the other bathing necessities. She also laid out a simple dark blue top, dark jeans, and a set of expensive-looking lingerie.

"He prepared a long time for you, miss," Rosaline said. "I'll be down the 'all if you need me. Just give me a ring."

Hermione nodded, not knowing what the girl meant exactly as she turned on the water in the Jacuzzi tub. She was left to her own devices once more, as per the norm in her life, but this time it was more significant.

Ginny.

The Weasleys.

_Harry._

They'd be furious with her. Beyond furious. They didn't know what had happened to her, where she was.

She had to owl them.

But she didn't know where she was!

* * *

That was how she landed herself in this place, needing reading material and an explanation from a vampire that had abducted her.

_This is fucked up,_ she thought, twitching with the hem of the dark blue shirt. _He expects me to just wait here?_

A knock came upon the bedroom door. The sun had set about half an hour previous, while Hermione had inspected every inch of the bedroom. She knew who it was.

"Come in, Count," she said, shaking her head slightly. She couldn't believe she was talking to one of the oldest vampires in the world. The utter insanity of it was not lost on her.

The door open and the vampire breezed through, looking quite…good. His hair was sleek to his head, held in place by a ponytail, and his suit was well made. Probably designer. Her own clothes were without tags, so she did not know whether they were or not.

"Good evening, Miss Granger," the Count said, bowing slightly. "I trust you've found things to be satisfactory?"

"Except for the fact that, oh, you kidnapped me, it's perfect. Ever going to let me go home?"

A low, resonating chuckle came from the vampire's throat. "It is unwise to do that at this point in time."

"Great," Hermione said, standing up. "I need a book. Do you have a library in this place?"

"A comprehensive library, yes," the Count said. "Come with me." He held his hand to her, but she slid her hands stubbornly into her pockets. "There are other vampires taking refuge here. It is highly unwise to appear unaccompanied."

Narrowing her eyes, Hermione stared into his face. She didn't care that she was literally staring down a vampire. His expression was curious, but not that of a cruel man who would take her and do her harm in this particular moment. Slowly, she raised her hand halfway. "Are you not one of the most powerful vampires in the universe?"

"I used to be. Then Samara happened."

Hermione tilted her head, taking his hand, still rather hesitant. "Who? What do you mean?"

"You would know her as Samantha. You see, my survival is tethered to your existence. A long time ago, when I was a new, young vampire, a warlock cursed me. I would love only one, a witch of prodigious power and skill," he said, talking as he led her through the door. "If she were not mine upon the moment of my death, I would be resurrected when a new witch, borne of the same blood, came to the proper age."

"Twenty years of age," Hermione stated.

"Yes, exactly. Which is why I've been watching you."

"Which is why you've been stalking me, rather."

"No, not quite so," he replied. "I never came near you once."

"Of course not. You stalked me from afar. But it's still stalking."

"I have been trapped in this house, this castle, for years."

"I was wondering about the fact that it's a castle."

"It's not really a castle." His dark eyes seemed critical of her, though he smiled. "I only call it a castle for the grandeur of the statement. In all reality, it's just an incredibly large manor house. As such, everything within it is something you will enjoy or recognize. I've built a decent collection of books, for example, in the past few years of imprisonment."

"So you trust some of your staff?"

"No. I trust some of the other vampires living here. They know not to touch you – with your presence in the world, I've gained back some of my old power. I may not be to full strength, but I am free to walk and wander within the grounds of my own home."

"Will I be allowed to walk outside?"

"So long as you are accompanied."

_Might as well make the most of my imprisonment,_ Hermione thought. _It's not likely that I'll be allowed beyond the walls of this place for quite some time._ "And what if there is something I need that I cannot get within these walls? I left my wand at the Burrow."

"It will be retrieved this evening."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me. Thank Samara. I know you have seen her face."

Hermione could not reply to this, nor could she even comprehend what magic it would take to know that. Could he read her mind? Were her thoughts safe? Did he have a spy in her home? Were her parents safe? This was such a troubling train of thought that she could not even begin to comprehend the implications of any of her ideas.

"I think you will find the library to your liking," the Count told her as he threw open the double doors to the library.

It had to be four stories tall, with books everywhere – on every shelf to the ceiling, even above the door. Plush armchairs, tables for making notes, and even a few more modern beanbag chairs were on the floor, waiting to be sat in or at. It was almost like a larger version of the Hogwarts library, but with a more complex and immersed world that Hermione took an immediate liking to. He might have been a vampire, but he certainly knew how to keep a bookish girl happy.

Taking a large volume from the first shelf by the door, Hermione sank happily into an armchair beside a curtained window and set about reading.

* * *

Ginny, Harry, Ron, and George stood outside of the Granger household, staring at the nearly empty place. Only a few things remained outside.

"Think they've gone?" Ginny asked quietly.

"No idea. Come on. Let's go check it out."

The quartet entered the home, wands out. As Harry had expected, the place was empty save a few pieces of furniture and an out-of-place diary. Ginny picked it up.

"Samantha Urzica," she said, reading the name on the back. "That sounds familiar."

George nodded. "Hermione was having nightmares about someone with that name."

Ginny opened it to a random page, skimming it with widening eyes. The boys stared at her anxiously.

"What is it?" Harry finally asked.

"Hermione's been kidnapped. By a vampire. It's all listed here, his reasoning, his planning, his promise…his vow. Samantha Urzica is Hermione's Romanian ancestor, a very powerful witch. Hermione is destined to follow in her footsteps," Ginny said, closing the book and sliding it into her pocket. "Come on. Let's go tell the others. We have a lot to do."

* * *

**Oh, my goodness, I'm sorry! This took much longer to write than even I expected. It's quite a delicate tale, you see. Must be carefully approached.**

**I admit, this is somewhat filler. Rosaline is entirely my own creation – her purpose will be further revealed as the story progresses. I picture her accent as something of a cross between Seamus's and Fleur's. Not quite an easy thing to write, huh? But, you'll see why she is so confusing a character later on!**

**For now, I leave you be. I hope you enjoy this piece of delightful words that I've written for you.**

**Much love,**

**xHx**


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